


Leather and Lace

by Pixeled



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: Reeve had always prided himself on being strong and independent. His mother had raised him that way. Still, when all the meetings finished and he was alone in his office, he’d worry at the lace kerchief his mother had made him before he left. He’d rub it between his fingers, wracked with guilt and stress. He was only in his thirties and he was starting to get gray hairs in his beard, at his temples. True, he was turning forty in a few days, but he wanted to hold onto his youth. His mother always had dreams for him that would never come to fruition. A wife, some grandchildren. At first he thought he was just committed to school, too busy to bother with girls or anything quite so foolish, but then he realized he wasn’t like his peers. He didn’t have the heart to tell his mother, and now she was gone. Perhaps it was better that way, but he felt guilty for thinking so all the same.
Relationships: Reeve Tuesti/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Leather and Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilRobotCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilRobotCat/gifts).



> This fic. is set to “Leather and Lace” by Stevie Nicks and “The Curse” by Agnes Obel

Reeve had always prided himself on being strong and independent. His mother had raised him that way. Still, when all the meetings finished and he was alone in his office, he’d worry at the lace kerchief his mother had made him before he left. He’d rub it between his fingers, wracked with guilt and stress. He was only in his thirties and he was starting to get gray hairs in his beard, at his temples. True, he was turning forty in a few days, but he wanted to hold onto his youth. His mother always had dreams for him that would never come to fruition. A wife, some grandchildren. At first he thought he was just committed to school, too busy to bother with girls or anything quite so foolish, but then he realized he wasn’t like his peers. He didn’t have the heart to tell his mother, and now she was gone. Perhaps it was better that way, but he felt guilty for thinking so all the same.

Just then the com on his desk crackled to life. “Sir, a Vincent Valentine says he’s here to see you?” He pressed the button and responded.

“Send him in.”

Minutes later a quiet considerate knock came at Reeve’s door. Reeve stuffed the kerchief in a drawer. “Come in,” he said, steepling his hands on his desk after pressing the button to let Vincent in.

“Hello, Commissioner,” Vincent said.

“Commissioner? Why so formal?”

“Reeve,” Vincent said, bowing his head respectfully.

“Why have you come? Did I summon you? I don’t remember….”

“I came for your birthday mostly, but I wanted to see if you had any jobs for me.”

“Oh Vincent, that is nice, but if I had a job for you I would have called you.”

“You’re one of the only people who knows my new number,” Vincent said. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

Reeve blushed a bit.

“I told Cait Sith,” he admitted. “And Cloud.”

“Wonderful,” Vincent said, deadpanninng. “Now everyone knows.”

“Are you saying you remembered my birthday on your own? No one called you?” Reeve asked, flushing more.

“Yes, that is what I am saying,” Vincent said matter of factly. “Since I have nowhere to stay, I wondered if it would be okay to stay with you,” Vincent said, eyes cast down.

Thoughts began to race in Reeve’s head. Him, alone with Vincent in his home, which was admittedly too much space for one person and a robotic cat. He’d always wanted to get Vincent alone to himself, as desperate as that seemed. The man was beautiful in a way he had never seen before. Feminine in a way, but very masculine as well. He’d gotten close a few times. He smelled a bit like cinnamon and gunpowder, which always made him giddy. And that way his leather clothes hardly made a sound as he moved, always startling him when he popped up silently, deadly. He saw him without the cloak once and was surprised the man was so slight under that swath of red. He was even more stunning underneath the cloak, and seeing his whole face startled him until he stared. He had sharply chiseled cheekbones and full lips, a chin and jawline the gods themselves must have made. When Vincent caught him staring he put the cloak back on and that was the end of that. 

“Yes, of course you can stay with me.” He pulled his keys out of the inside pocket of his robe and handed Vincent the keys, which had a tiny Cait Sith charm attached. Vincent didn’t bat an eye. “I’ll, uh, cook something for you? When are you coming home?” Vincent asked.

“Probably nine. You don’t have to cook. I’ll probably just eat leftovers. You’re free to eat whatever is in the fridge.”

“You know I don’t need to eat,” Vincent said. Of course. He was dead—immortal, technically, after what Hojo and Lucrecia did to him. “Still. It would be nice to eat with you. I am your guest. I want to go through the effort. It’s been too long since I cooked anything.”

“You cook for Marlene when you visit Edge,” Reeve reminded the man. 

“Pancakes, eggs, and bacon hardly counts as cooking,” Vincent shrugged.

“If you say so,” Reeve smirked. It was nice, knowing that little Marlene’s charm even extended to a man who had spent thirty years asleep in seclusion and protested anything that caused him any pleasure because he wrongly assumed he was to blame for all that befell Gaia because he had loved a woman in secrecy and had not stopped her from everything that followed before he died. All the torture that followed—the reanimation, the autopsy while he was awake, the starvation and shifting from thing to horrible thing and being plagued by monsters both real and imagined, but worst of all was that Sephiroth, the man who almost destroyed the planet, was secretly his son and he aided in his death. However mad his son was, it could not have been easy for Vincent to help to kill him, even if he hadn’t dealt the final blow.

So Reeve accepted the offer of dinner, as much to please Vincent as it was for selfish reasons. He wanted to get closer to him. On the road, it had been impossible. There had been barriers. For one, there was the constant presence of their teammates. And, of course, the issue that he fought by way of a talking robotic cat and he saw through Cait’s eyes. Vincent would have never taken him seriously. But now, after becoming the Commissioner of the new city, he could finally look at Vincent eye to eye. 

Vincent nodded and left his office in a swirl of red. How Reeve wanted to remove that cloak and study his face up close, look into those odd crimson eyes, and kiss him as he had always wanted to do. Perhaps after dinner he would make his move. Even if he was to be denied, he would rest easier having known he tried.

After Vincent was gone he tried to get through his work as quickly as possible, knowing full well that if he allowed it, he could stay here until midnight. Sometimes he fell asleep at his desk and picked right back up in the morning. That would not be happening tonight. 

Finally he decided that he had done enough work for one day. Thankfully there were little to no interruptions and he was able to knock on his own door at nine on the dot. Vincent answered the door soon after, devoid of his cloak. His mouth curled up into a small smile, which was so unusual that Reeve’s heart skipped a beat. The smell of food reached Reeve and his mouth watered. It smelled delicious. Meat of some kind. Possibly steak. 

“You should probably come in,” Vincent said in that dry tone of his. Even when he was joking, there was no inflection to his voice. Reeve wondered if that was because he had been a Turk since he was sixteen, killing like a machine, never really having been treated like a person. And perhaps he himself perpetuated that by hiring the gunman for odd jobs only he could do. 

Ah, but he could ponder on that later.

“It smells delicious in here,” Reeve commented, closing the door after himself and removing his commissioner’s robe to reveal the suit underneath. He hung the robe behind the front door and stepped closer to Vincent. He intended to put his hand on his shoulder, to thank him, but Vincent quickly turned away, went to the kitchen, and poured two glasses of red wine. 

“Hope you like Malbec,” Vincent said, walking toward Reeve to hand him the glass by the body so Reeve could take the stem. Reeve contemplated touching Vincent’s hand, but he didn’t want to be too forward. This felt exactly like a date, but he would forego mentioning that, knowing how Vincent could disappear in a second if he felt uncomfortable. He was so fragile for all his strength, exactly like the wine glass. 

“I’m not a wine connoisseur,” Reeve shrugged, “but anything red is fine.” 

“It’s a little dry,” Vincent warned. Reeve was already taking a sip. It wasn’t bad. Dry was okay. After all, Vincent was dry, and he….well….

“It’s perfect,” Reeve commented. “So what did you make us?”

“Sit down. Get comfortable. I’ll bring you a plate.” Vincent turned and stalked toward the kitchen while Reeve sat at the table with his glass of wine. He sipped it slowly, waiting. 

Vincent approached the table with two plates. One balanced on his human hand, and the other on his clawed hand. He placed both plates on the table and slid one toward Reeve with a golden-tipped claw. Steak, mashed potatoes topped with what looked like leek, and creamed spinach. Reeve was impressed. 

“You made all this from scratch?” Reeve asked.

“Mmm. I was bored?” Vincent’s steak was bloody, almost rare. Reeve shook his head, smirking.

“What is that look for?” Vincent asked, raising an eyebrow as he cut into the steak, steadying it with his claws. 

“It’s just that there’s a rumor that you’re a vampire, and bloody steak is not helping that image,” Reeve laughed.

“I am not a vampire. I may be many things, but I’m not that.” Vincent seemed offended, but he pushed his mashed potatoes into the blood and took a bite. 

Reeve smiled unabashedly and shook his head. “It’s just that you slept in a coffin for thirty years?” Reeve pointed out.

“That I wouldn’t have been in if Professor Hojo hadn’t pushed me inside and nailed it shut?” Vincent grumbled.

Reeve couldn’t help thinking it was a curse, but a blessing in disguise. Vincent had never stopped being twenty-seven, the age he was when he had died, and even though Reeve was about to be forty, he didn’t feel guilty in the slightest. Vincent was actually almost seventy, after all, even though he didn’t, and never would look it.

Even if Reeve could convince Vincent to love him, Vincent would have to watch Reeve age and die. But he was getting ahead of himself.

Still, Vincent was so beautiful. Skin like fresh fallen snow, long dark ebony hair, long eyelashes that cast shadows over his perfect cheeks, impossible crimson eyes which seemed to look into your very soul, and a fierce strength and fragility both.

“What are you thinking about? You’re not eating. It’s going to get cold,” Vincent said softly. His voice was always very deep, but low like a whisper, leather and lace both.

“I….I’m thinking about how beautiful you are,” Reeve whispered, looking straight into Vincent’s eyes. Vincent stopped breathing for such a long time that Reeve worried, but of course he didn’t really need to breathe. He looked down and cut off another piece of his steak, popped it in his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. Reeve thought he might have ruined the moment, or that Vincent might just simply ignore it. Vincent took a long swallow of wine and then looked up at Reeve, staring into his dark eyes. Reeve could feel his cheeks flush. Vincent was staring into him, laying him bare. 

The next moment Vincent pushed his seat back and approached Reeve’s chair, gripping the top posts and pulling Reeve out from the table. Vincent’s strength always surprised him. He didn’t look as strong as he was, being so slight a man. He then sat straight in Reeve’s lap and leaned in, looking at Reeve briefly, blowing out a few shaky breaths before he pressed his lips to Reeve’s. Reeve kissed back, and then it was all a blur. To Reeve, it was nothing short of a miracle. He’d wanted this for so many years and he was prepared to never get it. Reeve was used to being a lonely man. His passion was engineering, building cities, and now—protecting his citizens. He was prepared to live and die looking up at the moon and feeling her pain. Constantly circling what she wanted, but constantly being too late, constantly missing opportunities. 

Kissing Vincent felt like heaven. He was warm where he thought he might have been cold. He only paused to bite off his glove and touch Reeve’s face with his naked fingers as he deepened the kiss. 

Reeve started to undo the top buttons of Vincent’s leather shirt and Vincent’s clawed hand shot up to wrap around his wrist and stop him with a surprising amount of force. 

“What is it?” Reeve asked, pulling away from Vincent’s face to look at him inquisitively. 

“You wouldn’t like what you see,” Vincent whispered. He tried to get up but Reeve pulled him back down. 

“Let me decide that. I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you.”

“No,” Vincent said a bit more forcefully than he probably meant to. “I’m a mess underneath my clothes. I don’t want you to see. And you never will.”

“Vincent, I don’t care about what you look like beneath your clothes, because you’re beautiful to me and you could never dissuade me of that.”

Vincent shook his head. “This was a mistake,” he said. He got up, took his dish to the trash to scrape the contents into it, and went into the living room. Presumably to crash on the couch. 

Reeve sat there, stunned. Should he push his luck, go for what he wanted? No, Vincent would further recede into his shell. 

Two souls, circling each other but never meeting. Circling each other until it was too late. 

Reeve finished eating, drank the rest of the wine, and with his head buzzing, went up to his bedroom laying on the bed dressed fully, staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

He dreamt of leather and lace.


End file.
